Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop, Bandai/Sunrise does; however, my birthday is coming up and if anyone would like to surprise me by getting me the rights, I wouldn't be ungrateful. ^___^
Author's note: When I started writing this, I had no intention of writing this many chapters, but this has been fun to play around with. Sukiyaki is a Japanese fried dish of sliced meat with vegetables and seasonings (emphasis on meat). Nothing much happens in this chapter, but what does happen is important later…
OTHER CHOICES (Part 7)
Spike looked dubiously at the plate before him. Beggars can't be choosers, he reminded himself as he picked up the chopsticks and ate the first bite. Hmmmmm, vegetarian sukiyaki, very creative, he thought with a grimace; he didn't let it stop him from polishing off the whole plate though. "Love what you've done with the place," Spike called to the bounty hunter as he propped his feet on the low coffee table and sank back into a sofa so yellow that the color couldn't be found in nature. Actually, for such an old ship, the Bebop wasn't half as bad as he had expected from his first outside view.
"Smart ass," Jet called down from the ship's bridge. Spike could just hear the faint tapping of keys over the whir of the ceiling fan. He lit a cigarette, closed his eyes and let his mind wander.
He hadn't even known that Ryokan had died. In all actuality, he had been trying his damnedest not to think about the situation the entire time he had been on Tijuana. This whole bounty predicament had opened the barely scabbed over place in his heart that he hadn't wanted to acknowledge existed: his friends' deaths were totally his fault. He sighed as he wiped away the tear that was trying to leak from the corner of his eye. There was no time for crying now. Whoever had ordered the hit on his cohort was going to pay a hard price he promised himself. Spike opened his eyes at the sound of boots on the metal stairs.
"Well, there's bad news, and bad news," Jet said coming from the bridge. "Which do you want to hear first?" he asked as he sat on the matching yellow chair on the opposite side of the table. Spike raised an eyebrow and took a deep drag on the cigarette.
"Hmmm…let me think about it a moment," he said, exhaling the smoke. "Maybe, the 'bad news'."
"According to the records, no one placed that bounty on you," Jet said with some frustration.
"What? How's that possible?" Spike blinked with surprise.
"It's not supposed to be possible. What's really interesting is that there isn't even a hacker trail that would lead me to believe that the file had been tampered with. It seems the file was placed in the system 'as is'. That speaks of someone with a lot of power and money, and police corruption."
"Okay, then, if that's the bad news, then what's the bad news?" Spike asked, shaking his head over that question.
"You're hip deep in some deep shit, kid," Jet answered.
"Gee, do you really think so? What clued you in?"
"Don't get cheeky, boy, sarcasm is unbecoming, and I don't allow it on my ship. There are still some options that I can try, but we have to go to Mars first." Spike bit his lip, as his brows came down in thought.
"Oh. Well. You probably shouldn't get involved any further then. Thanks for trying though."
"First you drag me into to this fiasco, and now you don't want my help? What gives kid?"
"Look, going to Mars, asking the kind of questions you have to ask in order to find this person, is dangerous. I already have four deaths on my conscious as it is. I don't need another."
"You said that you didn't kill those people," Jet said in a dangerously quite tone, narrowing his eyes.
"I didn't, but it's still my fault." Spike closed his eyes again. Gods, this hurt, he thought.
"Tell me what happened, " Jet said gently. Spike glanced at the bounty hunter through his eyelashes. He was surprised to find that the older man looked as if he might actually care.
"I shouldn't tell you anything, you're not in the family. Besides, most of the members of my cohort don't know."
"I can't help you if I don't know everything."
"Why do you want to help me, I'm a criminal, remember?" Spike said, throwing Jet's earlier words back at him.
"When I was on the force, they used to call me the 'Black Dog' because once I sank my teeth into a case I never let go until it was solved. I've sunk my teeth in this, and I'm not letting go now." Spike snorted, but gave in; maybe he would feel better if he talked about it.
"Okay. Here's the short version: As Mao would say, I grew a conscious. I wanted to leave the Clan, to live a normal life," Spike said softly. "I almost made it. Nearly everyone thought I was dead. Mao Yenrai was ready to start a war that would have jeopardized months of secret peace negotiations with the White Tigers, to avenge me," he sighed, and took another drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out. "However, two people in my cohort knew the truth, and they both had ways of keeping me from leaving. So I returned. The war, which someone was using as an excuse to keep the Syndicate from going legitimate, didn't happen; and that someone noticed that I could be used against Mao."
"I was wrong, you're not just hip deep in deep shit. You are up to your chin in deep shit." Jet held his hand level to his chin for emphasis.
"I thought sarcasm wasn't allowed on your ship," Spike smirked. Jet laughed.
"It's my ship, I can use sarcasm if I want to. You on the other hand…" the bounty hunter sobered. "So, what happens if some cowboy catches you and turns you in?" Spike shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm sure that the police would hand me directly over to Mao's enemies," Spike said matter of factually.
"And if you find out who these people are, what then?"
"They'll be dealt with in some extremely messy and public way. The elders generally frown upon unsanctioned violence against members of the Clan," Spike felt his evil smirk emerge. "So, the next time you hear of some prominent businessman or politician caught in a sex scandal/money scheme/drug deal gone wrong, and he commits suicide, you can bet your ass that's not what really happened."
"You know, just talking to you, it's almost easy to forget that you are a member of the Red Dragon; and then you'll say something like that. I'll say it again, you are a scary person, Spike."
"Sometimes, maybe. Speaking of messes, may I use your communications net? Maybe Mao can find some information that you can't."
"Sure kid, it's up on the bridge." Spike pushed himself off of the violently yellow sofa and walked heavily up the steps to the bridge. He took note of the various chronometers and figured that it was about 0230 in Tharsis City. Mao was most likely at home in bed. He punched in the private and secure number that Mao had given him in case of an emergency.
The phone rang four times before someone fumblingly picked it up; the viewscreen remained dark. "You have 30 seconds to convince me that this is damn important," Mao's voice snarled through the darkness.
"I'm very sorry to wake you sir," Spike said meekly, "you know I wouldn't call you unless it was an emergency."
"Spike? Hold on," there was more fumbling, and then a lamp flare to life. Mao, his eyes puffy with sleep, and his pajama top wrinkled, leaned in close to his viewscreen. "What trouble have you gotten yourself into now?" Spike frowned slightly as he decided not to mention the Blue Snake incident.
"Um, I've just discovered that I have an untraceable 8 million woolong bounty on my head for murdering four junior Red Dragon Syndicate members. You didn't tell me that Ryokan had died." Mao looked nonplussed but chose to ignore the last sentence.
"Untraceable? That speaks of someone high on the Council of the Elders. Of course, not everyone knows that there is a way to trace such bounties when the money changes hands, but it is still a very clever ploy. They must want you very badly. I'll call and have it canceled as soon as we are off the phone."
"You didn't tell me that Ryokan had died," Spike repeated softly. Mao frowned.
"Spike, there was nothing you could do about it, and you have other things to think about," Mao said in a tone that brooked no argument. "We'll discuss it later."
"Yes sir," Spike said quietly. "How is everyone else?"
"Roshi is the leader of his own cohort, and Lin is his second in command. Ansari is in the import/export side of the business, and I pity anyone who tries to get the better of her. Julia," Mao paused and smiled, "is with Annie learning how to shoot. Once she is proficient, I'll take her on as my driver." Spike smiled for the first time. Julia was actually the best driver in the Clan, and now, no one would be able to make a joke out of her inability to shoot.
"What about Vicious? How is he?"
"He's still planning to take over the world, if that's what you mean. You should know that it would take more than a couple of bullets to stop Vicious. He's on desk duty until he is completely healed and hating every minute of it; he'll have a cohort of his own soon." Spike nodded and smiled again.
"Now if there is nothing else, I should go and see what I can do about this bounty," Mao said, preparing to disconnect.
"Wait," Spike said as a thought came to him. "If you cancel the bounty, then your enemy will know that you are on to him and we may lose any way we have of tracing him."
"We can't trace him until the bounty is collected, so your point is moot."
"No, it isn't. I know of someone who could turn me in for that bounty. You could trace the money trail, and this could be over almost as soon as I'm back on Mars." Spike said excitedly. Mao frowned in thought.
"It's a possibility, but I don't like it. It's dangerous, and too many things could go wrong; we'll find some other way to find this enemy."
"But this is the quickest way, and I won't be in any danger, I'll be a valuable hostage. Besides, they can't blackmail you if you already know what's going on," Spike pleaded his case. Mao shook his head obviously trying to find a hole in the plan.
"I'm sure there is a flaw in your logic somewhere," he said.
"Sir, with all due respect, I'm tired of looking over my shoulders for this person, these people. Whoever did this needs to be punished, and this is the best chance we have to catch him."
"I'll concede that you may be right, Spike, but I still don't like it."
"Everything will be fine, you'll see. I'll call you later with some details. Goodnight, sir."
"Spike…be careful. Think about every possibility, and we'll talk about this in the morning." The viewscreen went dark as the transmission disconnected. Spike felt a lot lighter now that there was a way out of this trouble. He almost skipped down the steps to the living area. Jet sat, smoking, and eating his own plate of meatless sukiyaki.
"Well, what did your boss have to say?" Jet asked looking up at him. Spike reclaimed his sofa.
"There is no way to trace such a bounty until the money changes hands, so you'll have to turn me in."
"What?!" Jet actually dropped his chopsticks. "I'm sure your boss didn't say anything of the kind. It's a ridiculous plan, and you know it. There has to be something else you can do."
"It's a perfect plan: it's something that no one would even suspect of being a plan. We'll totally catch them off guard."
"We'll? Did I say I wanted part of this stupidity? I now understand how my partner Fad felt when I would come up with some gung-ho scheme. 'Jet,' he'd say, 'the cold light of stupidity just came on in your eyes, and I want nothing to do with it.'"
"You said you wanted to help, and besides, it's 8 million woolongs. I'm sure you could find something to do with eight million woolongs. Reupholstering the sofa and chair comes to my mind, or maybe, I don't know, buying some meat."
"Smart ass," Jet said with some asperity, rolling his eyes. Spike smiled, knowing he had won.
"So, is there any more sukiyaki left?" he asked hold up his empty plate.